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Matt sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It just seems to me they are setting up some dramatic event that will involve you, Amy. All that malarkey about the protective presence having a kinship with you and all. Just promise me you’ll be careful. That’s all I’m asking.”

Amy nodded, though her expression remained tight. “Fine. I’ll be careful.”

Matt stood, signaling that the meeting was over. “Good. That’s all I wanted to say. Let me know if you need my help at all. Officially or unofficially.”

As they dispersed, Matt motioned for Sully to follow him outside. Sully hesitated, glancing at Amy one last time before stepping out into the fresh morning air. Kaitlin and Amy had already put their heads together to review the night’s events.

The men walked in silence for a few minutes, the gravel crunching under their boots as they headed toward the mansion. Finally, Matt spoke.

“Listen, I need a favor,” he said, his tone low.

Sully glanced at him. “What kind of favor?”

Matt hesitated, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I really would like to close the case on this place. But we still have the old unidentified bones. I want to run a DNA test. On you.”

Sully stopped in his tracks, turning to face Matt fully. “What the hell, Matt?”

Matt held up a placating hand. “Hear me out. Kaitlin’s family-tree research points to a connection between the Blackwells and the Sullivans. If there’s any truth to it, your DNA could help us identify the remains. If it’s simply a Blackwell buried on their own property, we could close up this case and be out of the whole mess before this ghost hunter thing airs.”

Sully frowned, suspicion prickling at the back of his mind. “And what happens if I am related to the Blackwells? What’s the point? All the old families are likely related, anyway. A match between me and the remains wouldn’t tell you anything conclusive. Maybe the Blackwells buried a Sullivan on their grounds.”

“The point,” Matt said patiently, “is to get answers. Maybe you’re right, and it’s a waste of time. But it also could be useful. Kaitlin is… well, she’s really invested in this. Samira’s also convinced there’s a connection, and I can fast-track the results. No one else has to know.”

Sully stared at him. He didn’t like the idea of giving up his DNA, as it could tie up his family name to this whole ghost-hunting circus. But there was a nagging part of him—a small, reluctant part—that had been curious ever since they’d first brought it up.

“Fine,” Sully said finally. “But you’d better keep this between us.”

Matt smiled faintly. “You have my word. I won’t let Amy know you’ve been cooperative. Wouldn’t want to get word out.”

Sully laughed at that, the sound booming across the lawn and echoing off the silent stone walls of the mansion. “No, definitely not that.”

The air upstairs had a chill that didn’t match the morning sun.

Sully’s boots creaked over the old pine boards as he made his way down the narrow hallway toward the door that led to the widow’s walk. He was halfway through his checklist when he saw it—standing wide open. Again.

For a moment, he just stared at it. This was the second time this week he’d found the latch on the door leading to the widow’s walk undone. It was supposed to stay locked until they could reinforce the railing outside. The repair was low on the list, but he couldn’t imagine any of his employees coming up here, not with the skeleton crew they had now.

He stepped closer; the wind pushed faintly against the screen, carried the scent of brine from the bay. Beyond the threshold, the narrow walkway stretched along the upper roof line.

He pulled the door closed and turned the lock, testing it twice before stepping back. “Not funny,” he muttered to the empty room, though he wasn’t entirely sure who he meant.

Shoving the uneasy thought aside, he headed downstairs to start his walk-through in earnest.

Sully stood in the center of the grand foyer, boots planted firmly on the worn hardwood as he scanned the work list on his tablet. The morning light streamed through the arched windows, casting long beams across the dusty floor and illuminating swirling motes in the air. The place still had a lot of rough edges, but the progress was undeniable.

The main staircase, though, drew his gaze the most. Right now, it looked like a gaping wound covered by a too-small bandage, made safe with two-by-fours and temporary posts. In its heyday, it must have been a showpiece. A symbol of the mansion’s grandeur. Now it was a shadow of itself: cracked balusters, warped railings, the decorative newel posts long gone.

He’d been working on replacements in the carriage barn for weeks, carving the wood by hand late at night when the mansion was quiet and the rest of the crew had gone home. The work left his shoulders and arms aching, but there was something grounding about it. He could already picture the polished wood gleaming in sunlight, restoring some of the staircase’s former glory.

Sully rubbed the back of his neck and continued his walk through. His crew had poured themselves into this place, even through delays and chaos—discoveries of human remains, permit issues, and now the circus act stirred up by the ghost hunters.

But despite all the setbacks, there were victories, too. The hospital wing—the 1950s addition—was nearly complete. These would be the treatment rooms for the massage and spa. With a fresh coat of paint, it would become the first finished section of the mansion. He allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction, imagining Amy’s reaction when he told her.

Amy.

He frowned slightly, staring out the window toward the carriage barn. Lately, he’d been thinking about her too much—more than he cared to admit. It wasn’t just the project or the fact that she was his client.

It was the way her face lit up when she saw progress, how she’d run her fingers over the sanded woodwork and smile like she could already see the finished house in her mind. He enjoyed making her happy, and that realization unsettled him. His history of failed relationships made him leery. But this…